right.
âThis morning Symon and Renatta spoke to everyone at camp. With the vote coming tomorrow and the attack scheduled to begin on Friday, weâre now under instructions to remove anything or anyone we believe could interfere with the rebellionâs success. If the rebel students are under the same orders, it wonât take much to convince them to come after you.â
âThat doesnât make any sense. Iâm a colony student. They should know Iâm on the side of shutting down The Testing. Removing me isnât logical.â
âLogic isnât whatâs leading this rebellion, Cia. Emotion is. They want to end The Testing, but after investing their time and energy, what they want even more is to make Dr. Barnes and all those who were part of The Testing pay. They donât care if they die as long as those they believe to be responsible for The Testing are dead, too. If they see you as a threat to victory, theyâll have no problem sacrificing you in order to secure the greater cause. Get out of there while you can. Thereâs nothing you can do to stop whatâs coming.â
Yes. Yes, there is.
âZeenââ
âQuiet.â
I obey the harsh whisper and wait. Metal bites into my fingers as I clutch the Communicator and wait for Zeen to speak again.
âLook, I mean what I said. Get Tomas and get out of there. He can help you stay safe until I get word to you about what is happening here.â
âIâm not going to leave unless you do.â If it would keep my brother safe, I would run.
âYou have to get out of the city, Cia. This isnât something you should be dealing with. Let me know when youâre out of harmâs way, and Iâll try to join you after this is all over. Donât worry if you donât hear from me. It might be hard for me to get somewhere private enough to speak, but Iâll contact you as soon as I am able.â
âNo. Iâm not going to leave knowing youâre still in danger.â
âDonât worry about me,â he says with a hint of the self-assured tone I have always associated with my brother. âI can take care of myself. I have to go.â
âZeen . . .â I whisper. As much as I want to speak his name again, I donât dare.
Tears of frustration fill my eyes as I shove the device back into my bag and again head for the door. People will be starting to wonder why I am so late for breakfast. If Zeen is right, some of them might be rebels waiting for a chance to strike at any target, even me.
Two officials, one in red, the other in purple, stand at the base of the stairs as I reach the first floor and head down the hall to get breakfast. Only a handful of students are seated at the breakfast tables when I walk into the dining hall. During most meals it is noisy here, but now the room is quiet. Those who speak use hushed tones. Some watch me as I weave between the tables to the one where my final-year guide, Ian, sits along with Raffe. Most students keep their eyes on their plates. Enzo does not. As I walk by him I see concern and what looks to be a warning in his eyes.
Something has happened.
I try to catch Raffeâs eye as I slide into the seat across from him, but he does not look up from his plate of grilled egg bread and fruit. Ian passes me a platter of food, and I place a slice of bread and a piece of ham on my plate. The food tastes wonderful, but it is clear no one is enjoying the meal. One by one, the remaining students finish their breakfast, push back their chairs, and leave. âWhatâs going on?â I quietly ask Ian, who has remained in his seat.
âUniversity officials have confirmed that Damone didnât go home.â
âDo they think he ran away?â I ask.
Ian shakes his head. âProfessor Holt seems to think he might still be on campus. The officials spotted blood behind our residence, and theyâre concerned Damone